Viper
by destinationXoblivion
Summary: Just a short drabble going over an alternative method to reincarnating Sephiroth, told in the perspective memory of Yazoo. Yaoi, mpreg, extremely vague sexuality. If this offends you, please don't torture yourself reading it. Thank you!


Disclaimer: I own nothing, obviously. I assure you that if I did, Final Fantasy as we know it would be drastically changed.

Warnings: Yaoi, mpreg, extremely vague sexuality.

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You were always so concerned with her, weren't you? Every moment, every breath that came forth from your shell of a body was for her. Where was she, what were her plans, what could you do to help her? You were always saying it…you would do anything for her. Was it love for a mother who was never there, or was it sheer lunacy? Either way, I followed you with all my being. As you lived loving her, I was loving you, though you never quite took the hint. And never once did I scorn you your infatuation, the utter obsession with which you searched for her, a ravenous hunger to succeed flowing black through your veins. We never did bleed red, did we, Brother? We never were like the others. But you always said that's why Mother chose us, didn't you?

You were always so rash; I was always so pensive, silent and awaiting orders. You were the youngest, but you gave the orders in our little family. Our Kadaj always knew just what to do, just what to say, while my words came out stilted and poorly manufactured. Mother didn't construct me as carefully as she had you, it seemed. I was the older model; out of date in comparison to the smaller, more capable version. You were always so quick to point that out, a snake with your linguistic venom always poised at the tip of your pretty forked tongue. You were always so sure, so confident, so focused…oh, yes…always so very certain.

But puppets are easily altered, modified to meet ends, and the strings can be tugged in any direction the master chooses. Mother chose an alternate route for her puppet; one you didn't care for at all. You had grown up with such big dreams, such high hopes for what you were destined to become. You stood and watched as all of those dreams broke in the wake of the news she gave you. No longer were you to be her savior – you would provide him. A vessel for her favored son was all you were to be, eliminating your fantasies of being claimed as her favorite. But you were still something fantastic, were you not? You would bring Sephiroth back for another try at commandeering the planet she wanted so avidly.

And whether or not he was self-sufficient, all beings brought into the world need to be fathered. Mother found just the person, didn't she? Soft spoken, quiet Yazoo would do anything you bid him to. Of course I would. After all, I loved you. And how could I not? You were my brother, my viper, my first kiss, my first touch, my first intimacy. How could I ever hope to escape loving you? It seemed your venom was not only in your words, but in your kiss, your very skin. How could I ever hope to escape being yours eternally?

You were so disgusted when we coupled; you looked sick with hatred, and I closed my eyes to shield myself from your silent scorn. You lay still only because it was what Mother wanted, but you never made a sound. And you despised me the moment I came – I could tell. It was in your tear-spotted eyes, in your frowning lips, in the way you trembled as I filled you with my own type of venom. And how could you not hate me? I had taken away your dreams in an instant, and you bit my hand when I brushed the hair away from your face. You looked younger than you normally did in that moment, but then again, so did I. The horizons were new and terrifying to being who knew only torture and destruction. The giving of life was as foreign to us as venom to the blood stream.

And you ranted and raved when you could, when Mother was distant and when it was only you and I. It was so strange, that I had never felt protective over my younger brother until he was carrying something so precious that was partially mine. Perhaps it was just selfishness on my behalf, but I never wanted to leave your side, though you rebuked me and screamed at me to leave you. Perhaps it was terror on your behalf, but you rarely let your guard down. I didn't dare to tell you that I could tell when you did so, that I knew the precise timing in which to slip an arm around your waist. Oh, no, I never dared to mention that I had memorized the way your hand would slip to your stomach unconsciously, signaling me to lean in and press our lips together, silk against my own chapped skin. I could never let on that I knew every vulnerability you possessed, that I took every moment of it to my advantage.

You changed in those months, though you would rather die than admit it. Your lips began to spout kisses instead of venom, and every one of them set me aflame. You only touched me when we were completely alone, when you could pull my hair off my neck and lick down my throat in that way you knew how that made me gasp, when you could force my arms around you. And only when we were the only inhabitants would you lay down, exposing yourself fully to me, allowing me even the briefest of moments to worship your body, perfect and pale and rounding with my child.

Once, when we were truly alone, you cried. You never said why, but you never had to. I always did understand you best. I understood that you had suffered countless disappointments and discomforts only to be cast aside when your usefulness had expired. I understood completely; I was in the same situation. I wiped your tears with the pad of my thumb, and you let me hold you, small and frail with me curled up around you in a makeshift bed that always set your back to aching. I loved you in those moments, just as I loved you always, every moment of my life. You were my brother.

He was beautiful when he came, wasn't he? Even you sat and marveled at the miniature perfection that was our nightmare. But those eyes of yours weren't filled with the love a parent holds for their newborn, oh no. The green of your eyes flared with hatred for Mother's favorite, the gorgeous little bundle you held grudgingly, cared for the best you knew how though it killed you. You were supposed to be her favorite, the one who would transform from a well practiced ward into her fully fledged hero. You were supposed to be her favorite, and yet here you were giving the title to an insignificant infant whom you could crush in seconds. You named him for the man he was to become, and only called him by that title. He was never our son, never our angel, never our miracle. He was the product of venom, and it burned you even to touch him. He was simply Sephiroth.

You never gave yourself to me again after those months of weakness. I never once complained; those months were more than I had ever expected to obtain. We never exchanged vows of eternal love, did we? You didn't believe in those; after the second coming of Sephiroth, you didn't believe in love at all, if you ever had. But you knew…you always knew. You could see it in my eyes, in the smile I reserved only for you. I was snared in your heart.

You would do anything for her, wouldn't you? And I? Oh…I would have most certainly done anything at all for my brother, my viper, my love.

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Just a drabble written very late at night, so my apologies for any typing errors. Also, if the subject matter or pairing offends anybody, then I'm not quite sure why you would read enough of if to review in the first place, but my apologies if you had to suffer through the thing.


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